


wrapped around my finger

by queenliest (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/queenliest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You try to convince your boyfriend, Michael, to go onto a shopping spree with you... in the naughtiest way you could think of.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>[Michael Clifford/Reader] </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	wrapped around my finger

* * *

You were disappointed and a little more than dismayed. 

You were also a little bit frustrated, and it was all due to your boyfriend’s doings. Okay, wait. It wasn’t like he did something to annoy you; it wasn’t like he did something in particular to frustrate you. It was just a silly thing, really, but you couldn’t help but being annoyed and frustrated at him. You had invited him to go on a Christmas shopping with you and he refused, saying that he had more important things to do than to go on a Christmas shopping with you. 

You weren’t hurt—you were irritated. 

You had tried to convince him a few times, but his answer had always been the same, saying that he had more important things to do, saying that he had more important games to play than waste his time picking out gifts for other people he didn’t quite know. 

If this were on any other day, you would have allowed him to get away with his excuse. 

But this wasn’t just any other day. This was the 24th of December; this was the day before Christmas. This was the Christmas Eve, as others would have liked to call, and this was the only time you were going to have fun with shopping. 

Hell no. This was your time, and you weren’t going to allow Michael to not join you in this fun you had planned in mind. 

You had begun to contemplate on how you were going to convince Michael to go with you when an idea sparked into your head. 

You allowed a smirk to tug at the corners of your lips. 

_Oh. This will be fun._

\- 

You padded down the living room, making sure you weren’t making too much noise with your footsteps. In order for your plan to completely work, you had to be quiet as a mouse, and as silent as a ninja. 

You spotted Michael on the living room, sitting on one of the couches with a controller on his lap. 

_Perfect._

You silently walked toward him, making sure your presence went unnoticed. It worked; Michael was too engrossed in the game he was currently playing that he had failed to notice you sneak up behind him. 

You reached out and covered his eyes with the both of your hands. You heard him mutter a curse that wasn’t quite directed at you, heard him make a low growling sound at the back of his throat. 

“What the fuck, **(Your Name)**?” he said, cursing again under his breath. 

You allowed another smirk to flit on your lips. 

“Guess what?” you asked. You leaned down and whispered the words near his ear. You blew slightly on his ear; you had watched with obvious delight at the shiver that had just wracked his body. 

“What?” he asked, his voice a whisper. It sounded as though he was straining to get the words out of his throat. 

“Ta-da!” you said, exclaiming. You removed your hands from his eyes and walked in front of him, showing him the outfit you had chosen to wear for the day. 

The outfit had consisted of a red dress that was a little too short and small for you. The skirt went way above your knees so that it was showing a generous amount of your legs. The dress was also showing a little bit of your cleavage. You had decided to wear a pair of black stiletto boots that Michael had loved to see you in so much. 

When you glanced at Michael, you noticed him gulp. You allowed your smirk to widen—you were victorious in the first phase of your plan. 

“What’s this?” he asked. His voice was strained, his tone confused. 

“Oh, this?” you asked, pointing a finger toward the dress you were wearing. You feigned innocence; you feigned innocence and had done a fantastically great job. It was as though you were born a total angel. You allowed an adorably fake pout to cross your lips. 

“I was just trying to show you my outfit for the day since you don’t seem to want to join me…,” you said, trailing off and peering at him through your eyelashes. 

You heard him inhale a sharp breath. 

“You’re doing this to tease me, aren’t you?” he asked. His voice was still soft and strained, as though he had been trying too hard to let the words out; it was as though he were trying too hard to even speak rationally. 

“Tease you?” you repeated, tilting your head to the side and mustering the cutest pout you could do once more. You sounded innocent—you sounded too innocent for your own good. You placed a finger on your chin, as though you were thinking what his words had meant. Inwardly, you were smirking in success and victory. You were slowly having him wrapped around your finger. “Why would I even tease you?” 

“Because,” he began, letting out a low growl. “I didn’t want to join you in your Christmas shopping.” 

“Oh, no,” you said, feigning innocence once more. “You know as well as I do that I would never do that.” 

He glared at you. If this were in any other circumstance, you would’ve felt either afraid or attracted. But this wasn’t just any other circumstance. You knew why he was glaring at you, knew why he had chosen not to say a word. It was a glare of defeat; he had no idea how to win this fight. 

You slowly sauntered toward him, making sure to wiggle your hips every once in a while. You heard his breathing slowly turned ragged, heard his breathing hitch in his throat every once in a while. 

When you were finally standing directly toward him, you leaned your body down so that he could take a good peek at the cleavage being generously shown by the dress you were sporting. 

“Ugh,” he groaned. He reached out, put both of his arms around your waist, and successfully pulled you onto his lap. You were now straddling him; you could feel the raging hard-on he was sporting, could feel the hardness that was his crotch. 

You ground your hips onto his once, and felt him make a low guttural sound in his throat. He removed one of his hands from your waist to let it tangle on your hair. He pulled you in for a kiss, pulled you in for a rough kiss that took your breath out of your lungs. 

Even with him underneath you, he was dominating the kiss; even with him pinned underneath you, he was dominating you. His mouth was rough and bruising. His tongue was dominating yours, entangling with yours and doing a tango only he could lead. He bit your lower lip, drawing blood. He began to lick at the wound he had created, began to suck on your lower lip with hunger and famine. It was as though he was devouring you; it was as though he was hungry and desiring you so much that he couldn’t stop himself. 

You pulled your lips away from his, placing a hand on his chest and shaking your head. You needed to stop letting him dominate you; you needed to show him who was winning this round. 

And so you did. 

You ground your hips into his once more, delighting in the way he threw his head back and moaned. You leaned down and began peppering kisses on his neck, all the while grinding your hips unto his. You sucked and licked; you nipped and graze your teeth as you kissed his neck. You could hear his breathing go ragged, could hear his breaths hitching on his throat. One of his hands snaked down to roughly squeeze your bum, and you let out a soft moan at his actions. 

You continued your actions, watching with victorious delight at the way he moaned and groaned. You watched with delight as he growled, watched with delight as his eyes closed with pleasure. You watched with obvious delight as your name seemed to leave his lips often, as though he were chanting a prayer. 

“Oh, baby,” he said, your name sounding like a long out groan from his lips. 

And that was when you stood up and left him hanging with a wink coming from you. You made it a notion to turn your head and glance at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. 

“Oh, would you look at the time!” you said, exclaiming. “I’m going to be late for my Christmas shopping!” 

You were just about to leave the house, when Michael’s voice stopped you. 

“Wait,” he said. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh?” you said, turning your head to look at him. You raised an eyebrow at his words, and he looked at you with a glare. “Why? I thought you had more important things to do than join me?” 

“Oh, believe me I do,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Remember that payback’s hell, **(Your Name)**.” 

Oh, how you could just feel your knees going weak with excitement at his words. 

\- 


End file.
